


Things Left Unsaid

by Maybethings



Series: May Be Promptin' [10]
Category: Dragon Age
Genre: Drabble, Drabble Collection, M/M, Prompt Fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-09-21
Updated: 2011-09-24
Packaged: 2017-11-03 20:59:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 467
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/385881
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Maybethings/pseuds/Maybethings
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Promptfic collection, after scoring two Wade/Ashaad prompts from the DA Prompt Generator in the course of a week. Ashaad is in Amaranthine and he runs into an irreverent craftsman.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Truth or Drinks (get drunk)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Wade generally wins at drinking games. Usually. Original prompt: Wade/Ashaad, get drunk

It was a simple game: Truth or Drinks. You answered a question, or you drank. Wade loved the game because very little shocked him, and he could think of the most lascivious things to ask. Things that would sooner drive people into their alcohol than wag their tongues. Really though, in those cases silence was consent.

Somehow, between them, Wade and his unlikely companion had finished about half a bottle of good Antivan brandy. It would be worth it, just to prove to Herren that he could make anybody rolling drunk. Ashaad’s head was swaying gently, and occasionally he would start humming to himself. Had he forgotten what he was here for? Perhaps he had. Perhaps he wanted to. Why else would he have gone along with Wade’s offer of a game?

“Have you ever been in love?” Wade asked the Qunari opposite him, knowing they were both equally soused and the next few rounds would decide the whole thing.

Slowly, deliberately, Ashaad poured himself a glass, put it to his lips, and drained every drop. And then, head perfectly still upon his broad neck and broader shoulders, he flicked his hair out of his eyes. “This game is over, bas,” he declared, and stalked out of the tavern.


	2. Rematch

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Wade and Ashaad bumble into each other. Again. Original prompt: Wade/Ashaad, if looks could kill

They next met in an Amaranthine market. Wade had reached out for a late apple, and was beaten to it. The hand below his was large and broad, the skin grey-brown and tropically warm and the nails neat, dark claws. Their eyes met, and Ashaad’s narrowed to slits.

“Why hello there!” he beamed, sunshine and sweetness and light.

“ _Shanedan, bas,_ ” the scout growled. He relinquished his hold on the apple and stalked off. Wade followed, noting he didn’t have a sword on his back. There could be a dagger in his trousers—even a proper sword, by the size of him—but he’d take that risk. He was intriguing. Wade did like intrigue.

“You didn’t answer my question the other night,” he said to the Qunari’s broad back.

“It is not your place to ask,” Ashaad replied.

“Then you’ve lost our game.”

“So be it.” Ashaad turns, not slow, not fast, but with considerable force. “The games you bas play mean nothing to the Qun.”

“Word means nothing? Honour means nothing?”

Wade imagines he hears thunder, but the sky is clear and the air is cold and it is Ashaad growling, his neck corded, his eyes gleaming with bestial fury. 

“The honour of my people is not nothing. You are only alive now because you did not seek to question me about them.”

There’s a retort on the tip of Wade’s tongue, but there’s also the tip of a blade gently pricking his side. He subsides, and Ashaad walks away, melting into the market crowd with surprising ease.


End file.
